


Stanley Uris Needs a Hug and Four Shots of Straight Tequila

by in_my_complelty_unbiased_opinion



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Gay Stanley Uris, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Stanley Uris Needs a Hug, Stanley Uris is So Done, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Teenage Losers Club (IT), The Author Regrets Nothing, sorry theres so many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_my_complelty_unbiased_opinion/pseuds/in_my_complelty_unbiased_opinion
Summary: To put it eloquently, Stanley Uris was fucking over it. The pining. The lovesick eyes. The audacity. The hushed laughter of two idiots who think they’re way better at keeping secrets than they actually are. The entire ordeal, really.And what better way to fix his problem than by solving it himself, with the help of some friends of course.---Or where Stanley Uris is tired of Richie and Eddie’s pining and has half a mind to do something about it.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Stanley Uris, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon & Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Stanley Uris Needs a Hug and Four Shots of Straight Tequila

To put it eloquently, Stanley Uris was fucking over it. The pining. The lovesick eyes. The audacity. The hushed laughter of two idiots who think they’re way better at keeping secrets than they actually are. The entire ordeal, really.

“That’s not my fucking name you fucking dickshit.”

“Dickshit?”, Richie asked incredulously, “Well, that’s a new one. Where’d you hear that one, Eds? Was it Stanny? It was Stanny wasn’t it?”

“Don’t bring me into your shit, Richie.” Stanley bit back without any real emotion before Eddie blew up on Richie, using curse words that would shock even the most seasoned sailors.

They’re at it again. The bickering that Stanley had grown so unfortunately used to was starting to grate his ears. _One day, he thought, one day is all I ask for._ Sometimes, during times like these, Stanley wonders if he might be wrong. Maybe Richie and Eddie aren’t head over heels for each other. Maybe the venom Eddie laces his words with is real, maybe the teasing Richie seems to be fluent in doesn’t come from a place of care or love. But then Stanley remembers that he’s never been wrong a day in his life. He’s also never seen two people be so actively in love a day in his life.

It’s been like this for as long as he can remember, and he’s been trying to block out his early childhood memories for years. Richie says something stupid, usually mildly offensive. It doesn’t matter how lackluster the joke is, how easy to ignore it may seem. Eddie falls for it every time. Hook, line, and sinker. Then they blow up in an explosion of ‘your mom’ jokes and insults that don’t really make sense if you think about them too long. But despite the jokes, jabs, and anything else of the sort, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Richie and Eddie have been drowning in a sea of ‘I want to fuck my best friend and I don’t know what to do about it’ since they were old enough to know what fucking is.

Stanley figures that it should be cute, admirable even. But then he’s brought back to reality by Eddie throwing his shoe at Richie’s head and remembers that no, no it’s fucking not.

~~~

This is it. This is the last straw. The last hurrah before Stanley finally decides that maybe, just maybe, murder is worth the prison sentence.

He was in Math class, the school year was coming to an end and all Stanley wanted to do was survive these last few weeks in the hell that was Derry Public Schooling. After this, he just had to get through one more year. One more year and it was goodbye to local bullies, synagogue, and reading assessments - and hello to college bullies, Ramen, and more, much harder reading assessments. Things were really looking up.

Speaking of looking up, that’s exactly what Stanley was doing right now. Looking up at whatever god was looking down on him and asking them _why, why do you treat me like this?_ Before he could beg them to do him a quick solid and strike him dead right then and there, his current problem pulled him out of his chat with whatever deity was personally trying to ruin his life. His current problem being Eddie Kaspbrak and a swift kick to his shin.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” Stanley snapped, rubbing his lower leg to ease the dull pain.

“Were you even listening to me?” Eddie barked back, twisted around in his desk to talk to (read: assault) Stanley.

“No, I was doing my work. Something you should also be doing.”

“I can’t focus, Stan! God, what do you think it means?”

Stanley raised his eyebrows, his lips forming a line that said _‘this might be a question but the last thing I want is an answer’_ before proceeding, “What?”

He was met with another swift kick to his shin, and the pain that had just started to fade was back with more vigor than before. He hissed and retaliated with his own kick to Eddie’s knee.

Before Eddie could continue their inopportune fight, their teacher, Mrs. Miller (a greying woman who wore more cat fur on her than actual clothing) sent a pointed glare and a sharp “shh” in their direction. Eddie unceremoniously turned back around in his seat while Stanley brought his eyes back to his notebook. He had just gotten his parents off his back about the B he received on his last Biology quiz and the last thing he needed was a detention.

After a couple of minutes, when Mrs. Miller seemed more focused on her edition of Reader’s Digest than teaching the class, Eddie turned to face Stanley once again. Stanley pondered on whether or not he should just ignore him, but considering the pain in his shin, and his preference to not make it worse, he begrudgingly looked up from his notebook and into the face of alethophobia itself.

“What?” “He gave me a rose.” Eddie rushed out, scared that if he gave Stanley the chance to back out of the conversation he would take it. To be fair, he would.

Stanley let out a long sigh, much to Eddie’s impatient dismay, and came to terms with the fact that he was once again caught in the crossfire that was Richie and Eddie’s fruitless pining.

“Go on.”

“Well, my birthday was yesterday.”

Stanley rolled his eyes, “Yes, I’m aware.”

“And Richie always gets me something for my birthday. Well, you all do. But Richie’s gifts always really mean something, you know? Not that your’s don’t-”

“Eddie.”

Eddie let out a sigh. Not like Stanley’s sighs, nothing but exhaustion and annoyance. But one of impatience and confusion. Which made sense when you take into account that Richie’s somewhere in the equation.

“This year he made me a playlist, and he’s been making me those for the past couple of years so it probably doesn’t mean that much,” _Bitch._ “But this year...god, he gave me a rose, Stan. Like, just a single fucking rose. Who the fuck gives someone a single rose?” Eddie puffed, his face heating up while his eyes got that weird lovesick look they got whenever Richie was brought up in conversation.

“Probably someone who has a crush.”

Eddie sat up straight, a glare replacing the yearning look on his face.

“Don’t fuck with me, Stanley.”

Stanley was about to retort with his own equally aggressive remark but he knew Eddie’s defensiveness wasn’t directed towards him. Stanley let out yet another sigh, his face softening.

“I’m not fucking with you, Eddie. That rose _means_ something. And I know you’re too busy sulking in your own feelings to realize it, but Richie’s fucking crazy for you. And I’m not saying that just to make you happy, Richie’s crush on you is without a doubt the worst thing to ever happen to me.” Stanley shivered, memories of Richie explaining his attraction to Eddie in great detail has left him with scars he can never forget.

Sometimes he wonders if this is what it was like watching him and Bill tiptoe around each other before one of them managed the nerve to ask the other out. He shivered again. _God no, for his sake and everyone else’s, no._ He and Bill are perfect in every way and should never be compared to Richie and Eddie ever again, despite it only happening in his mind.

Eddie’s lips twitched upward, a small, timid smile growing on his face.

“Do you really think so, Stan?” Eddie implored, his voice softer than Stanley even thought a Kaspbraks voice could get.

For the first time in the last half hour, a smile found its way onto Stanley’s lips.

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

~~~

“God, he’s so hot.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Stanley groaned, taking his hands off his copy of _The Genius of Birds_ to cover his ears. Tragically, that did not stop Richie from continuing his unprompted rant.

“You don’t _understand_ , Staniel. You’re too cold and heartless to understand love. The only thing you’ll ever love is those god-forsaken birds.”

“Bill and I have been dating for 6 months you-”

“It’s just not fair!”

Stanley closed his eyes and tried to restrain himself from bludgeoning Richie with the book in his hands. It’s not like he wasn’t used to the sensation. Being friends with Richie Tozier for as long as he has tends to come with some homicidal tendencies. Really the only setback was that he didn’t want to get blood on his nice book. Despite the war raging in Stanley’s head (mostly his conscience), Stanley closed his book and put it off to the side, bringing his attention back to the nefarious trashmouth himself.

“What are you complaining about now, Richie?”

“Rude,” Richie quipped, lying down on the ground, his hands holding the weight of his head in addition to his ego. The thought of how many germs were using his clothes and skin as a playground made Stanley’s brain glitch, but mentioning it would only make Richie more inclined to roll around in the dirt like a dog so Stanley stayed silent nonetheless.

“He’s just - god, he’s so perfect Stan.” Richie’s face started to soften, and that pure look of love was starting to seep into his every feature. So, of course, to stop that from happening completely, Stanley grabbed his book and whacked Richie with it as hard as he could without giving him a concussion or any major injury. _I guess this is as close as I’m going to get to manslaughter,_ he thought while Richie yelped indignantly with surprise.

“What the fuck was that for?” Richie exclaimed, now sitting up to face the attacker in question. Stanley rolled his eyes, something you get quite good at when someone like Richie Tozier is a prominent part of your life.

“Ask him out, dumbass.”

“Lol, no.”

“I-,” A long pause. “Did you just say ‘lol’ out loud?”

Richie’s face broke out into an obnoxiously smug grin, “Indeed I did, Stanny. What? You got a problem with it?”

Stanley responded by hitting him over the head with his book a second time. This time Richie saw it coming and had just enough time to protect himself as best he could. _How_ _unfortunate_.

“I’m serious, fuckwad. You need to ask him out. The amount of time you spend staring at him went from cute to creepy a long time ago.”

Richie scoffed, his smile now gone. He looked down at his shoes - how anyone could ever willingly look at the monstrosity that is Richie’s Crocs matched with novelty SpongeBob SquarePants socks was and always will be a mystery to Stanley.

“I don’t know, man. Why would he even, like...want to? It’s Eddie, dude. He’s actually perfect. He’s a 12 and I’m, like, a six at my best. And I’m only at my best maybe three days out of the year.”

Stanley sighed, kissing his teeth in thought. For someone so eager to tell everyone how big his dick is, Richie has self-deprecation skills most poets could only dream of having. After a brief moment, Stanley reached over to put his hand over Richie’s.

“Listen here, fuckhead, only I get to talk shit about my best friend, alright?”

Richie let out a light laugh, looking up to smile at Stanley.

“Alright, alright. I’m done sulking, ya happy?”

Stanley took his hand off Richie's and leaned back, glad to have made Richie feel better, if only for a little while. Not that he will, ever, _ever_ admit that to Richie. He took a breath, thinking of what to say next.

“You’re - you’re a good guy Richie, okay? You care about people, and you would do anything for any of us. And you’re not slick dude, I know about the playlists you’ve been making Eddie, you sappy fuck.”

Richie let out a louder, more genuine laugh, blood rushing to his face. “Oh, god. He told you about those? You can’t tell anyone, dude. My reputation is too important, I can’t have people knowing I do that shit.”

“Your reputation cannot get any worse, Richie. If anything it would be an improvement.”

They both laughed, even if it really wasn’t that funny. Sometimes it was easier to laugh than to talk. Stanley calmed down far quicker than Richie and by the time Richie fully stopped laughing Stanley was already packing up his belongings. Once he was done, he held out his hand for Richie to take.

“Alright, dickhole, let’s go. Also, you are never going bird-watching with me again.”

Richie chuckled while grabbing Stanley’s hand, using it to hoist himself off the ground. Stanley pulled his hand out of Richie’s to grab his shoulder instead.

“And really, Richie, ask him out. He’d be an idiot to say no. He’s also in love with you, dipshit. But honestly, that’s just a bad decision on his part.” Stanley said earnestly, for as much of a pain in his ass Richie can be, he’s Stanley’s best friend. And Stanley is willing to put his dignity aside to talk some sense into him. Richie blushed once more and sent Stanley a smile only reserved for the Loser’s Club.

“Thank’s, Stan. Maybe I’ll grow a pair and ask him. I might also just chicken out at the last second, I guess we’ll see what happens.”

Stanley rolled his eyes but shot a small smile right back anyway.

“Love you too, trashmouth.”

“Lol, gay.”

And with that, Stanley brought his book back up to hit Richie once more before walking away, leaving a wheezing Richie to run after him.

~~~

“Will you two shut the fuck up? I can’t hear the goddamn movie.” Stanley scolded, struggling to bend down far enough to deck Richie right in his obnoxious face. Sadly, Bill’s arm was still tightly woven around his waist. As much as Stanley loved him he wasn’t above breaking it to get his sweet revenge.

The whole gang was here, much to Stanley’s dismay. He had suggested they leave Richie locked in the car but had, tragically, been outvoted.

_“T-that’s c-cruel, Stan.”_

_“Could be crueler. We could set the car on fire. Actually, why don-”_

_“We’re not setting my car on fire.”_

_We should have set the car on fire,_ Stanley thought bitterly, leaning back in his seat while trying to block out everyone entirely. All he wanted was to enjoy one wholesome night out with his friends at the Aladdin, but Richie and Eddie seemed to have other ideas. Although Stanley hated to admit it, sometimes Richie and Eddie’s longing was sweet, adorable even. Sometimes their yearning came in the form of comforting side hugs and sweet nothings whispered in each other’s ears in times of need. Sometimes the love they so obviously shared was something to envy, or to strive for. Right now was evidently, not one of those times. And Stanley was about four seconds away from making that known.

“Oh my god, fucknut, stop breathing so fucking hard.” Eddie hissed, although if you asked anyone else there really wasn’t a problem with Richie’s breathing. Of course, no one dared to question it. You’d have to be stupid to willingly put yourself on the receiving end of Eddie Kaspbrak’s venomous glare. But Richie Tozier, it seemed, was the world’s biggest fucking masochist.

“My breathing isn't the only thing that’s hard right now.”

“Ew, Richie! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“That’s not what your mom was saying-” Before Richie could even finish his sentence Eddie was already breaking off into a hushed rant, the only thing stopping him from fully cursing the trashmouth out was the pointed looks other moviegoers were already starting to send them.

“God,” Stanley grumbled, “They need to be euthanized.”

Bill chuckled beside him, making Stanley wonder why he actually agreed to date someone who so openly takes pleasure in his suffering.

“Let them b-be, love.” Bill retorted, stretching in his seat to get more comfortable.

“Yeah, Stan. At least you’re not a 5th wheel.” Mike said from the seats above them. Stanley just rolled his eyes, straining his neck to look up at him.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

Mike scoffed and was about to reply before they heard a loud screech followed by obnoxiously loud laughter. _Oh right, those motherfuckers._

“What the _fuck_ , Richie? Do you have any idea how many people have touched that seat? Do you have a fucking death wish? You know what, it doesn’t matter cause I’m gonna fucking kill you anyway! What is _wrong_ with you?” Eddie sputtered, his hands coming dangerously close to knocking over Beverly’s popcorn as they gestured wildly.

“Couldn’t help myself Eds, a dare is a dare.”

“I didn’t fucking dare you! I specifically told you _not_ to lick that seat!”

“Some things might have gotten lost in translation.” Richie shrugged, and Eddie was starting to look seriously close to slapping that smug look off Richie’s face. Stanley was seriously close to letting him.

“Jesus, fuck! Do you understand how fucking idiotic that was? I swear to god, Richie-” _And there goes the popcorn._

The Loser’s Club watched as the large bag of popcorn, in all its glory, spilled onto the moviegoers unlucky enough to have chosen seats in an eight-foot radius of Richie and Eddie.

The whole theater was silent for a few, terrifying moments. The only sound coming from Mike who promptly stood up and walked out, leaving the rest to suffer the fury of Derry, Maine’s unforgiving citizens.

“Uh...free popcorn?”

~~~

“I’m going to change my name and move to Denver.”

“They aren’t t-that b-bad, Stanley.”

Stanley continued his pacing despite Bill’s flippant response. They were at the Denbrough residence, Stanley’s original attempt at studying had been interrupted by a good half hour of making out, and was currently being interrupted by Stanley’s unbridled hatred for Richie and Eddie’s general existence.

“I just-,” He had to take a deep breath, otherwise he might have just spontaneously combusted right then and there. _That actually doesn’t sound half bad right about now,_ Stanley decided, “I can’t even figure out if it would be better or worse if they just confessed. This wasn’t what it was like for us.”

Bill hummed in disagreement, “I d-don’t know. W-we w-were pret-t-t-,” He took a pause, cursing his stutter, “I think w-we w-were kinda like t-them.”

“Take that back right now or I’m breaking up with you.”

Bill laughed, finally setting down his sketchbook to pay full attention to his distressed boyfriend. He stood up from his desk and shuffled towards Stanley, hoping to put an end to his harangue. He paused when he was close enough to gently lay his hands on Stanley’s waist. Stanley looked up, unimpressed.

“W-why do y-you care s-so much? We’ve b-been p-putting up w-with them s-since we w-were kids. I’m pr-pretty s-sure Mike has already f-figured out how t-to b-block them out completely. What’s s-so different now?”

Stanley sighed, using their current stance to his advantage as he continuously bashed his head against Bill’s chest. Stanley both felt and heard Bill let out a loud laugh, _that_ _bastard._

“Really, dove. What’s g-going on.”

Stanley lifted his head off Bill’s chest, his expression softening as he admitted defeat.

“I just...know that they would be happy together. They both aggravate the shit out of me and I wouldn’t wish them upon my worst enemy but still. They deserve to be happy, and I know that they would be if they just stopped tiptoeing around what’s obviously right in front of their dense faces.”

Bill smiled, looking down at Stanley with that expression that made Stanley feel way too many emotions for his liking.

“S-so you...c-care about them?” He teased.

“Don’t twist my words, Denbrough. I can still break up with you.”

Bill laughed once again and leaned down to kiss him, and Stanley let him. It was true, really. He did want his friends to be happy. Even if said friends were Richie and Eddie. And even if they both made him want to gouge his eyes out and sell them on the black market to pay for a new life in Denver.

~~~

Enough is enough. If Richie and Eddie weren’t competent enough to get together on their own, Stanley had no choice but to intervene. It was for Stanley’s greater good. The Loser Club’s greater good. Hell, the world’s greater good. And if no one was willing to do it, Stanley would just have to take matters into his own hands. That being said, if he wanted his mission to succeed, and for his sake and sanity, it would succeed, he was going to need help.

“What a surprise, Stan. I never thought you would be desperate enough to come to me for help,” Beverly stated, taking a long, leisurely sip from her juice box ( _“ages 4-10 is just a suggestion, Stan”_ ).

“This is my house. I invited you here. I literally just let you in.”

“Shush, Stanley. We haven’t much time.”

Stanley rolled his eyes, motioning for Beverly to take off her shoes before leading her upstairs to the privacy of his room. Once there, Beverly promptly flung herself onto his bed while he sat down at his pristine desk.

“So,” Beverly implored, “What’s our dilemma?”

“Richie and Eddie.”

“Naturally.” Stanley reached into one of his desk drawers to grab one of his many, many journals and a novelty bird pen Bill had gifted him for Valentine's Day.

“I’m trying to think of a plan. A way to get Richie and Eddie to confess.”

“So, a plan to get those two idiots out of their own asses and into each other’s beds?”

“I literally beg you to _never_ phrase it like that again but yes.”

“Excellent. Operation: Get Reddie Laid; is a go.”

Stanley sighed, beginning to regret his decision of bringing Beverly into his plan. Despite the sinking feeling in his gut telling him that he fucked up, he turned his journal to a random page and labeled it _‘Reddie’_.

“Where do we start?” Beverly prompted, taking her now empty juice box and throwing it towards the general direction of Stanley’s garbage can (she missed).

“Why would I know?”

“This is _your_ plan, dude.”

Stanley flung his free hand into the air, feigning exhaustion, “Why do you think I asked for your help, asshole?”

Beverly hummed in thought. Although Stanley still doubted his recent decision of hiring her as his second in command, if there was one person in the world who knew Reddie best, it was Derry, Maine’s one and only: Beverly Marsh. While Beverly was still deep in thought, Stanley took it upon himself to walk over to his garbage can and throw away her forgotten trash. While walking back to his desk she seemed to have a breakthrough, throwing her arms in the air and shouting out a cry of success.

“I’ve got it!”

“What?”

“Okay, hear me out. We play spin the bottle-”

“No, awful idea.”

Beverly huffed, crossing her arms around her chest, “Okay, well I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas.”

Stanley sighed, scratching his chin as he racked his brain for any, as Beverly just called them, _‘bright ideas’_. After an embarrassing amount of time spent trying to come up with something, Stanley threw down his journal, succumbing to defeat.

“I give up.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Beverly jumped up from Stanley’s bed, walking over to him to harshly put both hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look directly into her icy blue eyes.

“You, Stanley Uris, are going to think of a plan. Then, you are going to flawlessly execute said plan. And you are going to make these dipshits confess their love if it’s the last thing you do, for I have never seen you fail at anything a goddamn day in your life. Do you understand?” She demanded, her burning red hair matching the raging fire in her eyes. Stanley felt tears tickle the corner of his eyes.

Beverly’s face fell, “Oh, are you crying? Was that mean? I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s just that you’re freakishly strong and you’re starting to leave bruises on my shoulders.”

“Oh! Sorry,” She giggled, standing back to give Stanley room to stand up. He sighed.

“You’re right though, those morons need to get together, and I’m willing to walk through hell to make that happen. Seriously, this pining is killing me. But we’re going to need more help.”

Beverly’s Cheshire grin found its way back to her face. With a wink, she said, “And I know just the right person.”

~~~

Upon walking into the only library Derry inhabited, Beverly spotted her boyfriend, hunched over a book in the far back.

“Ben!” She yelled out, only to get immediately shushed by every single person there, Ben and Stanley excluded. Beverly ignored them as she ran towards Ben, Stanley following close behind while mouthing a quiet _‘sorry’_ to the unhappy bibliophiles he passed. They eventually reached Ben, pulling chairs from other tables to create a small circle. Upon seeing Beverly, Ben’s smile beamed. _Ew._

“Hey, Bevvy. What are you guys doing here?” Ben questioned not unkindly, setting his book to the side to give them his full attention. Beverly spoke before Stanley could preemptively apologize for whatever pain they were about to put him through. He still wasn’t 100% sure what Beverly’s plan was (or if she even had one).

“We need your help.”

“I’m at your service. Well...unless it’s illegal. It’s not illegal, is it?” Ben floundered, doing his best to not come off as harsh. _Whatever god thought us worthy of having a friend like Ben was dead wrong._ Stanley took the lead before Ben could get any farther.

“It’s not illegal, Ben.” _Well, at least not yet._ “We’re trying to come up with an idea to get Richie and Eddie together.”

Beverly chimed in, “And who better to ask than the biggest romantic we know?” She ended the remark with a wink, making Ben’s face grow redder than her hair.

“Well, usually I don’t like messing around with people’s love lives...but it would be really nice to finally see them get together,” Ben admitted sheepishly.

Beverly whooped, throwing her fist in the air, receiving another round of shushes from the library’s occupants.

“Oh, hush! We’re matchmaking!” Beverly yelled out, a sour look on her face. Ben started packing up his things just as the librarian started stalking over to their makeshift table.

“We should definitely go before I get banned from the library. So, who’s house?”

And that’s how they ended up right back in Stanley’s room, with Beverly back on her seemingly permanent spot on Stanley’s bed, Ben on the floor leaning against said bed, and Stanley at his desk, his journal and bird pen in hand.

“We need a plan that doesn’t make Eddie too uncomfortable. And simple enough to where there’s no way Richie could fuck it up.”

“Optimistic thinking. Might as well shove that idea in a safe and throw away the key.” Stanley deadpanned, but added it to his notes anyway.

Ben perked up at that thought, then immediately shook his head, returning his eyes to his own notes. _Too late, Hanscom,_ Stanley thought before closing his journal and looking pointedly at Ben.

“What? Do you have an idea, Ben?”

Beverly brightened, sitting criss-cross applesauce to look down at Ben. Ben shook his head, making an effort to look anywhere but Stanley and Beverly. Stanley rolled his eyes.

“Out with it, Hanscom. We’re losing daylight.”

Ben sighed, and Stanley could almost see the emotional turmoil happening in Ben’s head right now. Finally, he spoke.

“Okay. So, we need something that won’t make Eddie freak out, but also something that Richie couldn’t mess up. And since there’s no surefire way to make sure he won’t, Richie somehow needs to be in on it. But…” He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek while he was clearly fighting every moral code he has.

“Uh-huh,” Beverly insisted, “But what?”

Ben sighed once more, “But that doesn’t mean he has to consent to it.” Ben spit out as if even vaguely mentioning anything non-consensual made him taste copper.

“Us? Making Richie do anything mildly awkward or inconvenient? How scandalous.” Stanley deadpanned, making Beverly snort.

“It gets worse.”

“Go on.”

Ben took a breath, “I’m just gonna say it. I think we should lock them in a room together and not let them out until they confess their undying love for each other.”

Beverly let out a loud cackle, “Ben! Oh my god, that’s genius. I love you.”

Ben blushed a deep crimson, “I love you, too.”

Stanley raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed, “Alright, Hanscom, that wasn’t half bad. And honestly, I should have been doing homework an hour ago so I guess this is what we’re going with.”

Beverly paused her laughter, a questioning look on her face, “But what about the consulting Richie thing? We can’t just tell him we’re going to lock him in a room and expect him to go with it.”

“Honestly, with Richie, who knows? We could promise him candy and he’d jump into that room.” Ben joked.

Stanley gently placed his journal and pen back into their rightful spots, shifting in his swivel chair to face his current partners in crime, “Don’t worry about that, I have an idea.”

“This can go nowhere but up, boys.”

“Indeed, Marsh. Now both of you get out of my house.”

~~~

They ended up recruiting more members of the Loser Club to help them in their endeavor and by the time their plan was ready to be set in motion, the only Losers not involved were Richie and Eddie themselves. First, they needed someone to keep Richie and Eddie entertained long enough for them to set their trap. That’s where Bill and Ben come in. Bill currently getting his ass handed to him by Richie at the arcade, and Ben keeping Eddie busy by simply letting Eddie chew his ear off about how stupid the new Star Wars movies were (a real hero’s sacrifice). Bill argued that it should be Stanley taking his place since he’s Richie’s best friend but Stanley is always one “your mom’ joke away from seriously maiming Richie and they couldn’t afford to take that risk.

Next, the trap itself. They needed a room, preferably one where the owners wouldn’t mind a few broken lamps if anything crazy happened. Stanley prayed to every god he could think of that _nothing_ crazy was going to happen. For special emergencies, they had Mike and Beverly as the muscle. And Stanley had to do nothing as this entire situation was already far too emotionally taxing for him.

They ended up using the spare bedroom at Ben’s house, making sure to get rid of any expensive-looking furniture before checking to see if the lock could withstand Eddie Kaspbrak’s might. With everything in place, all that was left to do was lure the mice into the mouse traps.

“Text Ben, tell him we’re ready,” Stanley announced to the remaining Losers in Ben’s living room.

“Only if you say it.”

“I am _not_ calling it that, Beverly.”

Beverly pouted, crossing her arms around herself like a child. “Well, then. I guess Richie and Eddie will just live the rest of their lives alone and sad.”

Stanley sighed, rubbing his fingers in circles on his temple, “Fine. Text Ben and tell him Operation: Get Reddie Laid; is a go.”

Beverly squealed then ran into the kitchen to grab her phone. Stanley took a breath and sat down next to Mike on the couch.

“Please use your big, strong muscles to put me out of my misery, Mike.” Stanley pleaded, looking over at Mike with dead eyes. Mike just chuckled, _that_ _asshole._

“Just wait until you actually lock them in that room. Bev and I already have a bet going on about how fast Eddie’s going to murder you once he gets out.”

“What’s at stake?”

“All your belongings, probably.”

“As long as I’m no longer trapped in the prison that is human existence, you can take whatever you want.”

Mike laughed again as Beverly came running into the room.

“Ben says they’ll both probably be on their way soon.”

“Probably?”

“They have to convince them to come over to Ben’s without making it sound suspicious, first.”

_“Hey, Eddie. Let’s go to my house.”_

_“What? Why? We’re already at mine.”_

_“I-uh, I have some comic books to show you?”_

_“Why’d that sound like a question, Hanscom?”_

_“Because...I was asking you?”_

_“Whatever, let’s go. But I’m watching you, dude.”_

\---

_“Hey, R-Rich, let’s go t-to Ben’s h-house.”_

_“Ight.”_

“Well, it looks like the plans in motion, guys.”

~~~

Stanley never thought playing Cupid would be this complicated, or exhausting for that matter.

He and Mike stood abruptly when they heard the door open, the tell-tale bluster of Eddie Kaspbrak being an indicant of who arrived. They walked into the living room, Beverly running to greet her boyfriend with a signature Beverly ‘bone-crushing’ Marsh embrace. Eddie took off his jacket, looking around at the assortment of Losers, obviously confused.

“Hey, guys. What is this? An intervention?” Eddie joked, hanging his jacket on Ben’s coat rack, why Ben had a coat rack in his living room, no one knew. Ben looked around panicked before turning to Eddie, doing what he probably thought looked relaxed and casual.

“I invited them over too, this uh...comic book’s really cool.” Ben fumbled, not giving Eddie room to question him as he turned to the others and clapped unnecessarily loud.

“Shall we?”

The others shrugged, and Stanley did his best not to roll his eyes. A feat he would probably pat himself on the back for later. But for now, there was no time. It was now or never. Well, except for one major setback. One half of the biggest part of their plan was missing: Richie. Stanley would have to stall.

“Richie and Bill aren’t here yet, why don’t we uh…” Stanley coughed, trying to keep down his lunch as he fully realized what he was about to say, “Why don’t we play that new game you got, Ben?”

Ben paused, “...Just Dance 2019?”

Stanley tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“Yes, that one.”

And that’s how Stanley found himself performing _You_ _Can_ _Dance_ by _ABBA_ with Beverly five minutes later. Unfortunately, that’s also how Richie found Stanley performing _You Can Dance_ by _ABBA_ with Beverly five minutes later.

“What the _fuck_?” Richie choked out, near speechless. Stanley continued the routine, only looking up to stare Richie dead in the eyes as he perfectly executed the ending move. Afterward, he gently set the remote down and took a seat on the couch, never once breaking eye contact with Richie.

“What?” Richie sputtered, lifting his hands to gesture at Stanley in a _what-the-fuck_ motion. Bill laughed, not really sure what’s happening but honestly just happy to be there. He walked up to the others, stopping to kiss Stanley on the forehead before taking a seat next to him.

Mike shrugged, hardly containing his laughter, “Yeah Rich, what’s up with you?”

Richie gasped, eyes widening as he stuttered out a sentence no one could quite understand. No one seemed to pay any attention to Beverly, who was currently cry-laughing on the floor. Richie took a deep breath, bringing both hands up to rub over his face.

“I will bring this back up when I have fully registered it enough to make fun of you.” He spoke quietly before walking over and taking a seat, piling onto Eddie and Ben.

“Get the fuck off me, dude.”

“No can do, Eds. I’m registering.”

“And _I’m_ this close to sticking my foot up-”

“Comic book!” Ben suddenly yelled out while standing from his seat, almost taking Richie with him. “Let’s go do that!”

Stanley once again had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The chances of this plan succeeding were only getting slimmer.

Richie seemed to perk up at that, “Comic book? Bill didn’t say anything about a comic book.”

“Yeah, I got a cool new comic book I wanted to show you guys.”

“Then what the hell are we waiting for? Last one there get’s Eddie’s second fanny pack.”

Eddie was about to object before Richie sprinted off towards the stairs. Eddie jumped up, running after him at full speed.

“It’s in the guest room!” Ben yelled after them.

Well, that worked out well. Stanley originally thought they were going to have to get them into that room by force, but Richie’s teasing seemed to do that for them. They raced up the stairs after Richie and Eddie, leaving Beverly (still crying on the floor) in the living room. By the time they got to the guest bedroom, Richie and Eddie were already sitting on the bed, seemingly back to their regular banter. They looked up as the others got to the doorway.

“So, Haystack, where’s this comic book?”

Ben sent them a frown, “Sorry, guys.”

He quickly shut the door, taking a set of keys out of his pocket and twisting them in the doorknob, efficiently locking Richie and Eddie in. They heard them let out surprised cries, then sprint to the door, trying their best to open it.

“What the fuck? What are you guys doing?” Eddie demanded, trying to open the door to no avail.

“I’m sorry, but this is for your own sake, Eddie. We couldn’t stand by and watch you guys do this to yourself any longer.” Stanley stated, raising his voice to be heard through the door. Sure, some would say he was being dramatic; but he would say _‘shut the fuck up, Bill, this has nothing to do with you’._

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” Richie asked.

“Oh yeah, how are they supposed to know why we locked them in there?” Beverly whispered from beside Bill. They all jumped, not knowing when she even got there. Stanley pulled out his phone, opening his messages to click on Richie’s contact.

“Richie’s name in your phone is _‘bane of my existence’_?” Mike questioned, looking over Stanley’s shoulder to peer at his screen.

Stanley ignored him, typing out a text that would hopefully get his point across.

_To: bane of my existence_

_From: Stanley Uris_

_Confess your love or perish._

“Done. Let’s go downstairs, they're starting to get annoying,” Stanley announced. He could only stand their useless yelling for so long. Although, the ruckus they’ve started now isn’t much different from their usual banter.

When they all settled down on the couch, Bill piped up from his spot, “What n-now?”

Stanley sighed, leaning back into the cushion.

“Now, we wait.”

~~~

Eddie threw his hands in the air, giving up on any hope that he would get out of this room any time soon. He began pacing around the small room, going through his memories to find any reason as to why he and Richie were being punished.

Richie raised his eyebrows, “Dude, calm down. What are they gonna do, leave us to starve?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie scoffed but ceased his pacing nonetheless. Richie rolled his eyes, patting the empty spot next to him on the guest bed, signaling Eddie to join him. Despite the very casual gesture, a light blush found its way to Eddie’s face. He walked over to the bed, trying to decide what was an appropriate amount of space to leave between them. Not that his overthinking meant shit; the moment he was on the bed Richie was moving his legs up and over to place right in Eddie’s lap.

“Do you even know what a personal space bubble is, jackass?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Besides, if I can’t cuddle my homies then what’s the point, amirite?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, using all of his limited strength to push Richie’s legs off him. Richie cackled while throwing his head back, giving Eddie a front-row seat view of his sharp jawline and Adam’s apple. Eddie gulped, shifting in his spot while pointedly looking anywhere but Richie.

Puberty had hit Eddie hard, and along with his growth spurt (if you could even call it that) and slightly deeper voice, he had been awakened to...other aspects of his sexuality. He had wondered in his earlier years, why he never felt anything for the girls in his classes. The only girl he’d ever felt true love for was Beverly, and even then she was more like his sister than a potential love interest. It wasn’t until Bill let it slip that he liked Stanley at one of their sleepovers that Eddie realized liking girls didn’t have to be his only option. If Bill liked boys, why couldn’t he?

“Hey, Eds, whatcha thinking about?”

Eddie snapped out of his thoughts, looking over at Richie who was smiling at him with an expression Eddie didn’t have the emotional capacity to read right now.

“Nothing,” He coughed out. “What are we gonna do, Richie? My mom’s gonna freak if I’m not back by 6.”

Richie nodded, suddenly looking very serious, “I know, your mom always gets real pissy when I’m late for our hook-ups.”

“Oh my fucking god, Richie. Those jokes aren’t even funny.” Eddie barked, using the pillow closest to him to hit Richie repetitively.

Richie slipped into a British accent, and although his impressions have gotten better since they were all thirteen, that doesn’t mean they’re good, “Twas not a joke, my good sir.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again, but a small smile tugged on his lips.

“Whatever, dude.”

Richie laughed, settling back into the pillow behind him. He opened his mouth to say something then quickly closed it, and when Eddie looked like he was going to comment on it he opened it again.

“Wha-”

“Hey, have you seen that video of a baby otter going down a slide?”

Eddie blinked, “Uh...no.”

Richie jumped for his phone, “Cool, you’re gonna love this then. He, like, claps at the end and shit, it’s really cute-”

He paused, looking down at his phone with a suspicious look on his face, “Stan text me.”

Eddie jumped up, leaning over hurriedly to peer at Richie’s phone, “What? Holy shit, open it, dude. Maybe he told you why he locked us in here.”

Richie nodded, unlocking his phone to open Stanley’s message.

_From: bird bitch_

_To: Richie Tozier_

_Confess your love or perish._

Eddie stared down at the text, confused, before Richie suddenly pulled his phone away, throwing it out of reach when Eddie tried to grab it back.

“What? What does that mean?”

Richie, who was now suspiciously looking anywhere but Eddie, let out a nervous laugh, “Who knows, dude? Stanley’s always saying weird shit like that. Could mean anything, honestly.”

“It said _‘confess your love’_.”

Richie let out a louder, much more nervous laugh, “Wow, you got a really good look at that text.”

Eddie’s face softened, the reality of this situation was starting to catch up with him.

“Here, I’ll text him back and tell him to let us out. I’ve got, like, 10 years of blackmail on him.”

Richie went to grab his phone but Eddie grabbed his wrist, making Richie look him in the face for the first time in the last two minutes, “Wait.” If this text meant what Eddie thought it meant, there was no way he was letting this opportunity pass him by. If he didn’t shoot his shot now, he might never.

Richie sighed, “Listen, Eddie, the text doesn’t have to, like, mean anything. If...if you don’t want it to.”

Eddie leaned in closer, making Richie gulp, “So it did mean something.”

“...Maybe,” Richie whispered, their faces now impossibly close, snatching the breath away from both of them.

Eddie smiled, a sight that made Richie’s heart beat inhumanly fast in his chest. He should probably get that checked out before Eddie fucking murders him for what he’s about to do. He quickly closes the gap between them, making Eddie gasp into his mouth. For a few, dreadful seconds Eddie does nothing. But then he’s leaning into the kiss, moving his hands up to run them through Richie’s unkempt hair.

The kiss is short but sweet, and when they pull back they’re both breathless. They both sit there, staring at each other in awe as they catch their breath. When it looks like Richie’s about to ruin the moment, Eddie leans back in, kissing Richie with more rushed passion than before. Richie matches his energy, moving to snake his arms around Eddie’s waist. They fall back onto the bed, and Richie suddenly switches their position to lean over Eddie, pulling a gasp out of him.

Richie used this to his advantage and deepens the kiss. Suddenly they were full-on making out in Ben’s guest room. Richie slid his leg between Eddie’s while Eddie untucked Richie’s shirt, sliding his hands into it and onto Richie’s exposed skin. Eddie’s not sure what to call the noise that escaped Richie’s mouth, all he knew was that he liked it. Just when Eddie was about to pull Richie’s shirt over his head, the door opened, and in came Ben, making them jump.

“Hey, guys, we heard some noise and- Oh! Nevermind! I’m so sorry, I’ll uh...I’ll leave.”

Eddie groaned, “Too fucking late, Hanscom! The moments ruined.”

Richie, who had promptly fallen off the bed when Ben burst in, started cackling from the floor. Ben shut the door as fast as he could, hightailing it back to the living room where the others immediately bombarded him with questions.

“Are t-they okay?”

“Did Eddie finally kill Richie?”

“They were fucking, weren’t they?”

Stanley rolled his eyes and was about to walk up there himself before he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked his notifications to see that Richie had texted him.

_From: bane of my existence_

_To: Stanley Uris_

_thanks._

_ps. we’ll make sure to burn the house down when we’re done_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is my first work on Ao3 and I'm really excited to post it! I worked really hard on it and I hope everyone else liked it as much as I did. If you have any constructive criticism or tips, I'd love to hear them! Or if you have any requests, I'd be glad to write something for you! Thanks for reading!


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